


A Summer Never-to-be-Forgotten

by ValancyStirling



Category: Anne of Green Gables - L. M. Montgomery, Anne with an E (TV)
Genre: F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-13
Updated: 2020-07-26
Packaged: 2021-03-05 03:14:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,133
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25237519
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ValancyStirling/pseuds/ValancyStirling
Summary: Anne and Gilbert are reunited after almost a year apart.I have been away for several months, but I decided that I wanted to write again. Anne and Gilbert's story is far from over. As always, I appreciate any comments or suggestions.Although it is from a later novel, I was inspired by this quote from Anne's House of Dreams:“All in all, it was a never-to-be-forgotten summer — one of those summers which come seldom into any life, but leave a rich heritage of beautiful memories in their going — one of those summers which, in a fortunate combination of delightful weather, delightful friends and delightful doing, come as near to perfection as anything can come in this world.”― L.M. Montgomery
Relationships: Gilbert Blythe/Anne Shirley, Ruby Gillis/Moody Spurgeon MacPherson
Comments: 13
Kudos: 70





	1. The Return to Eden

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Scandalously in Love: A Collection of Love Letters](https://archiveofourown.org/works/21580435) by [ValancyStirling](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ValancyStirling/pseuds/ValancyStirling). 



The sun rays of the late spring sun danced upon on the gulf transforming it into a sea of diamonds. A girl, nay, a young woman sat upon the shore of ruddy sand engulfed in her notebook, her pencil nub scratching furiously upon its pages. The story had come to her as she walked along the shore, and she could not enjoy the sunset until she began to scribe it.

Anne, now the ripe age of seventeen and a college graduate, had found a great deal of solace in writing over the long winter months at Queens. Of course, writing had also become a necessity with term paper after term paper. One simply cannot win the Avery Scholarship without attending to her studies. Writing had also become a lifeline to her loving family, her bosom friend, and her … Gilbert.

Anne did not fully know how to categorize her relationship with the boy with dancing grey eyes, nut-brown curls, and crooked smile. She had not seen him since the warm September afternoon when they promised to be pen-pals. A barrage of winter storms kept Gilbert in Toronto over Christmas Holidays. It did not prevent him, however, from sending a small package, no bigger than the one that contained the pocket dictionary, to Green Gables. The parcel contained perhaps the most miniature carrot Anne had ever seen.

_To my dearest "Carrots," for your charm bracelet celebrating all the Annes of past, present, and future._

Anne could not help but smile as she added the trinket to the charm bracelet Matthew had gifted her for her sixteenth birthday. She did not even mind the name _Carrots_ – as long as it was by the boy who held her heart.

The letters between Anne and Gilbert were frequent and fervent. Of course, there were the mundane accounts of classes, clashes with roommates, and celebrations – but there were dearer things, things that made Anne's heart flutter and her mind wander to a time when their separate dreams converged. It would be a long time – Gilbert still had four years of medical school, and Anne had accepted a scholarship to Redmond University to pursue a BA. They had vowed that they would use that time "happy, waiting and working for each other—and dreaming." [1]

Anne shared some of these dreams with Gil, while others she shared only with her journal.

Gilbert, too, shared some of his dreams, and Anne often imagined if he also had secret dreams like her.

Now with summer at the doorstep and a long year of studies behind her, Anne had time to pursue another dream of becoming a writer. In between all the essay writing, letter writing, and love letter writing (the latter two being, as Anne quickly discovered, two completely different forms of writing), Anne had begun experimenting again with writing short stories. Moreover, after much encouragement from Diana and Ruby, she had finally submitted a story to an American Sunday School periodical. Our heroine was crushed after her first rejection letter, but after some persistence, polishing (and a sea of tears), Anne finally received a letter of acceptance with a check for five dollars. Soon, Anne discovered that writing for Sunday School periodicals could be a lucrative venture and had several short stories published over the winter and early spring. Although the extra income was welcoming, Anne grew tired of writing formulaic serials. She desired to have one of her more mature stories published in a women's journal, perhaps even an American one.

Now with June, July, and August on the horizon, she could throw herself into her writing. There would be some distractions, Gil would be returning in a fortnight for the summer, but he too would be distracted with preparing for his medical school entrance exams. Diana was home (although slightly distracted herself – we will address this later), and Ruby was preoccupied with making plans for her wedding (although it was still two years off).  
  
The late may breeze held the promise of warmth, and Anne removed her shoes and stockings and let her feet sink into the fresh, damp earth. With her journal resting on her lap, she began to write about how a tall, dark, handsome Tahitian seafarer was saved from the wreck of the Marco Polo by a heroic fisherman's daughter. It was high time that the damsel was the one pursuing the distressed. Anne smirked as she thought of Mrs. Rachel Lynde's reaction to Anne being published in a woman's "rag," although she knew that it was also a guilty pleasure of Mrs. Rachel.

Even with her faults, Mrs. Rachel did have many more endearing qualities than Anne had first discerned. Case point, she had grown quite fond of Elijah Hanford and had taken it upon herself to mother him, often to Elijah's chagrin. "A boy of that age needs a motherly figure to guide him into manhood," Mrs. Rachel retorted to Marilla one evening, "and I owe it to poor Mary to do that in her absence."

Under the tutelage of Mrs. Rachel, Elijah had learned how to sew, cook, and bake bread. "A modern man should know his way around pleats, pot-roasts, and pastries." Rachel turned to Anne and winked, "don't expect me to get in the way of modernity."

Mrs. Rachel had also developed a less harsh outlook on Anne's appearance. "Anne, girl, you are nice, tall, and stylish now. That red hair is darkening into a handsome auburn. As for your complexion, be sure to wear a wide-brimmed had whenever you venture out into the sun, or your face will erupt into nothing but freckles.

Anne, heading Mrs. Lynd's advice, perhaps for the first time, wore a wide-brimmed straw hat as she meandered along the beach. The pale blue plaid of her skirts complemented the dancing waves of the gulf, and her blouse had just the right amount of puff to pass Marilla's approval. She wore an indigo blue cardigan to stave off the last few chills of spring and wore her auburn hair in a stylish French braid down the back tied with the ribbon, a gift to Marilla by another Blythe boy.

Gilbert had written to Matthew and Marilla in the fall to express his future intentions making sure to emphasize that the future meant after university and life experience. Marilla was stern at first, but couldn't keep her pleasure of life circling and correcting past wrongs from bubbling up from inside. Matthew quietly replied to Gilbert, and neither Anne nor Marilla knew the exact contents of the correspondence. Nonetheless, the Cuthbert's were happy that an "Island Boy" who did not intend to put out the fire in Anne's soul was courting Anne.

Anne and Gilbert's courtship had played out in the form of correspondence where innermost desires may be written and erased before they could do any damage. Anne wondered how a face-to-face courtship would feel. She longed for Gilbert's physical presence but was fearful of navigating the uncharted waters of courting in this new century.

Talk of romance and courtship had been the topic of many a conversation amongst the former members of the story club.

Ruby, who had been officially courting Moody since the previous summer, had viewed her courtship as a bride and wife in waiting. The idea consumed most of Ruby's plans.

"I'm not only preparing for a wedding, I am preparing to be a wife, and a wife of a minster at that," Ruby argued the evening before while enjoying a picnic of plum puffs and raspberry cordial at Orchard Slope.  
  
Moody Spurgeon McPherson had decided to live up to his namesakes and pursue theology and the seminary in the fall. He had already been accepted into a school of theology in New Brunswick, and Ruby had decided to continue her studies at Queens balancing Religious studies and English Literature.  
  
"I plan to be a well-rounded minster's wife," confessed Ruby. I do not want to be so heavenly minded that I am no earthly good." Ruby reached for another plum puff but retracted, "perhaps I don't want to be too well-rounded."

Anne grabbed the plum puff and placed it in Ruby's palm. "Don't be foolish; plum puffs are a gift from heaven _for_ earthly good."

Diana smirked, and she gulped down the last drop of cordial. "Ruby, I'm sure Moody wouldn't mind if you added a little curve to your hips."

"Diana Barry," scolded Ruby, "you are speaking of the future wife of a man of the cloth! We must not speak with such impropriety!"  
  


Diana relaxed, "I suppose you are right. Our dear Moody would never dream of doing anything that would make him unworthy of the cloth." She bit her lip and then snorted into laughter.

Anne tried to hold it together but soon fell apart with her bosom friend.

"I'm not saying that we're saints," interjected Ruby, "but we are far from sinners."

"What does that mean?" inquired Anne.

"All I'm saying is that… sometimes… the spirit moves… and we act appropriately." Ruby corrected her posture and turned to Anne, "you'll understand what I mean when Gilbert returns."

Anne was perplexed. What spirit was about to move? What would be an appropriate action?

All these thoughts seemed to block Anne's stream of creativity, and her heroine and lost sailor only made it two paragraphs into their story. She vowed to return to it later, closed her book and lodged her pencil behind her ear.

The sea looked so inviting that she ventured in up to her ankles. The warm gulf stream was doing its job, but the water still held the memory of pack ice from a few short months before.

The chill made her not venture any deeper, but she thought that it would not hurt to explore greater depths in the heat of summer.

…

"Gilbert," a petite woman called, "a rather official letter came her today addressed to you. It has the seal of the University."

Gilbert Blythe, now a man of nineteen, had applied for the Eaton scholarship at the University of Toronto with the encouragement and recommendation of Dr. Emily Oake. He had fully risen to the challenge of being a pre-med and had proven himself worthy of Miss Stacey's endorsement.

The year had not been easy, but he persevered and earned the top marks in his class, surprising the city folk who had not pegged a "simple island boy" as be a scholar. Gilbert had made a small circle of friends and had managed to find boarding within brisk walking distance of the school even though he had been a late entry.

Jacob and Moira Steinberg owned a little book store on St. George Street and lived in a two-story apartment above it. They rented out their master suite to university students and preferred to board pre-meds. Jacob liked to have a doctor (or a reasonable facsimile) close. Not that he was particularly sickly, but after living past his three-score-and-ten, he wanted to have, what he called, "an insurance policy."

Moira was all of four-foot-ten, but more than made up for her small stature in personality. She was the driving force behind the bookstore while Jacob kept himself busy with accounting and purchasing.

In his letters to Anne, Gilbert described Jacob and Moira as kindred spirits and wrote of how he would love to introduce Anne to Moira.

Gilbert earned part of his keep by taking shifts at the store and, as a result, found a handful of kindred spirits of his own.

Toronto was a big city, but Gilbert had found a tight-knit community. When it became evident that he would not be returning to Avonlea for Christmas, Jacob and Moira insisted that he stay and take part in their Chanukah celebrations with their grown children. Ella, their oldest, was an accomplished pianist in New York City, while Yael, their youngest, had a law practice in Montreal. Ella had never married, while Yael was happily married to Ethel and had three children. Before the celebrations were over, Gilbert had shared so many stories of his beloved island that the Steinberg children were already planning to spend part of their vacations there in the future.  
  
"Perhaps we'll all come down for the wedding," smirked Moira. "Or are you planning not to invite your adopted Toronto family."

"By all means, yes," replied Gilbert. "Just give us a few years to set a date."

"You are a braver man than I," remarked Jacob. "When I met my Moira, I could not wait to marry her."

"I cannot wait to marry Anne either," smiled Gilbert, "but we made a promise that we would follow our academic pursuits before we marry."

Moira glanced slyly at Jacob, "I suppose that's for the best. We weren't married five minutes before Ella was on her way."

"Mother!"

"Why it's true – your mother and I were like firecrackers…"

"Father," cried Ella, "we have company."

"And my company knows how dearly I love my wife." Jacobs's eyes still sparkled at the sight of Moira – their love was still new, even after almost 45 years.

The winter had melted into spring, and Gilbert was planning to return to Avonlea to help Bash with the farm, study, and spend every other moment with "Carrots." Bash had spent the winter pouring over any book he could find on farming and maintain orchards. Elijah had helped him with the spring planting and pruning, but he had some other plans up his sleeve that he wanted to share with his business partner.

"I plan to diversify our crop next year, and I want you to look over some different scenarios with me before I make any decisions," Bash had written in a letter from April. Gilbert was curious – what did Bash have in mind.

Now his return to Avonlea was a mere fortnight away, Gilbert felt more homesick than ever, so the official-looking letter was a welcome sight. He scurried up the stairs, sat at his desk, and tore open the envelope.

_Dear Mr. Blythe,_

_It is our sincerest pleasure to award you with the Eaton Scholarship for studies in medicine. This $1000 scholarship is awarded to the pre-medicine student who demonstrates excellent scholastic aptitude and exemplary volunteerism in the medical field. Your recommendation from your professors and field coach, Dr. Emily Oake, along with your riveting essay on the importance of holistic treatment, has convinced the board of your potential as a physician._

_Congratulations on your achievement, Mr. Blythe. We look forward to hearing more of your accomplishments._

_The Board of Reagents_

_University of Toronto_

Gilbert gulped. He never imagined reading about himself in such a way. Overwhelmed, Gilbert broke into tears – some of joy, some of anguish, some of relief. This scholarship secured his place at U of T. His future, although still far off, came into a clearer focus.

After sharing the good news with the Steinbergs, Gilbert raced back to share the news with Dr. Oake.

"This is fantastic news, Gilbert," congratulated Dr. Emily. "Although I never doubted it. I have not regretted replying to Muriel's telegram about you once this year."

Gilbert had spent a great deal of time assisting Dr. Emily throughout the school year and had promised to work another two weeks before returning to Avonlea.

"Come," gestured Dr. Oake, "sit. I will take you for a celebratory supper, but first, I have something to run past you."

Gilbert sat across from his mentor, "what do you have to run past me?"

"Well, Gilbert, you have been an invaluable assistant this year, and I hope that you will continue doing so next year."

Gilbert smiled, "I will be honoured. This has been the most rewarding and challenging experience."

"I'm glad." Dr. Emily leaned forward and continued. "I know you have promised to work with me for these next two weeks, but I have been given a last-minute invitation to speak at a medical conference in Montreal. It is simply too important for me to miss, and since I am out that way, I may take the train to Boston to meet with another colleague on a prospective study."

"It sounds like an opportunity you cannot miss, remarked Gilbert, "so I guess that means you will not be needed me around."

"Yes," Dr. Emily clarified. "However, this will give you a much-needed break. I do not want my most prized pre-med to burn out before he really gets a chance to shine. Besides, you need to go home, get some colour in your cheeks and salt air in your lungs."

Gilbert rose from his chair and extended his hand, "It has been a pleasure, I am forever in your debt for taking me on at the eleventh hour."

"It was the greatest eleventh-hour decision I ever made." Dr. Emily shook Gilbert's hand. "Now, where shall we celebrate?"  
  
On his return from dinner, Gilbert stopped by the train station to check the schedule. If he hurried, he could get the nine o'clock train the next morning. He could be in Avonlea the following afternoon. Gilbert could feel his lips unconsciously forming into a crooked smile.

He scurried through the streets of Toronto back to his boarding house. He explained his situation to Jacob and Moira and left them a sum of money to keep his room over the summer.

"Don't be foolish," scoffed Moira, "you take this and put it towards a ring, my boy. Your bed will be here in September."  
  
"Are you sure, Moira?"

"Don't speak of it again."

The next morning, Gilbert awoke before dawn, dressed, and collected the rest of his things. He said his goodbyes to the Steinbergs.

Before he left, Moira handed him a copy of _Jane Eyre_. "This is for your Anne. You told me that this is one of her favourites."

Gilbert accepted the gift, "Thank you, Moira. Anne will definitely consider you a kindred spirit."  
  
"Be sure to write… son," Jacob's eyes became misty. "Your carriage is waiting."

Gilbert placed his trunk and suitcase in the carriage and took his seat. "Farewell! I will see you in September."

At promptly nine o'clock, the train left Union Station.

He was coming home – returning to Eden.

  
  
  


[1] L. M. Montgomery, _Anne of the Island_


	2. Eastward and Westward

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Our star-crossed lovers are closer than they have been in months. Both are anxiously awaiting a summer together - but both have reservations and questions about the future.

Gilbert passed his time from Toronto to Montreal, reading, gazing out the window, and more often daydreaming about what awaited him in Avonlea. Eight months had passed since their last, and exhilarating meeting, but Gilbert could still feel the touch of her pink lips upon his. When he closed his eyes, he could still imagine holding her close. The moment of bliss was also met with slight confusion. Was there a way to hold her closer than he did? He felt a longing for their two bodies to occupy the same space – a physical impossibility – but was it? Gilbert had the greater part of a year to mull over this idea, and it perplexed him every time. At times, he scolded himself for having such improper thoughts, "Blythe, free your mind of these thoughts," – but at times, he let himself think upon such things.

The railway hugged the St. Lawrence River for the most part from Ottawa to Montreal, which made for some spectacular scenery. Gilbert Arrived in Montreal just before dusk and had just enough time to make his connection to New Brunswick as his train was continuing onto Portland, Maine.

As he boarded, he caught sight of a familiar face.

"Mr. Phillips," called Gilbert, "it is nice to see you after all these years."

Mr. Phillips peered back at his former student and stuttered, "Mr. Blythe, what a pleasure. How has life been treating you?"

Gilbert clutched his hat, "very well, I am a pre-med student at U of T, and I'm making my way home to Avonlea for the summer.  
  
Mr. Philliips stared off to a distant place for a moment. "Avonlea, I haven't set foot in that Hamlet since…" he trailed off.

Aware of his former teacher's embarrassment, Gilbert replied, "Yes, it has been a while. How have you been?"

"I am well, thank you." Feeling a little less awkward, Mr. Phillip's smiled, "I am working at a Brokerage in Halifax and just interviewed for a position in Montreal."

"Well, I hope all goes well for you, Mr. Phillips."

"Yes, me too. Tell me, how are the rest of your peers from Avonlea Public School doing?"

"Well, Moody is planning on joining the clergy, if you can imagine that," Gilbert chuckled.

Smiling, Mr. Phillips replied, "I will be shocked at nothing."

"Charlie Sloane will be attending Redmond in the fall along with Anne Shirley," Gilbert continued. "They will be joining Prissy Andrews, who is in her second year."

"It's nice to know that Pricilla has continued her studies, she was a very bright pupil," Mr. Phillips sighed.

"Its water under the bridge, sir," consoled Gilbert.

"Indeed, I suppose it is," the lighthearted banter vanished from his voice. "Pricilla is destined for greatness." Mr. Phillips changed the subject, "and Anne Shirley is university-bound as well. I misjudged her when she first entered my classroom."

  
Gilbert clutched his hat more tightly, "yes, I believe many of us did."

"I suppose Charlie Sloane is following her to Redmond. He always had a sweet spot for her."

Gilbert stroked the back of his head, "not exactly."

A smile reappeared on Mr. Phillip's face, "so have you taken notice of her?"

Grinning, Gilbert replied, "you can say that."

Mr. Phillips placed his hand on Gilbert's shoulder, "Well, I wish you all the best in your academic and other endeavours. I would sit with you, but my firm has purchased a first-class ticket for me."

Mr. Phillips made his way to the front of the train while Gilbert settled in his seat. Mr. Phillips seemed to have mellowed a little but still managed to place himself on a pedestal as before. Charlie Sloane and Anne Shirley? Gilbert loved his old school chum, but he was far from Anne's equal. A frightening thought crossed his mind. Was he Anne's equal? Could he bestow on her diamond sunbursts? Marble halls? All the things that she deserved.

Before he could think any further, he rummaged through his satchel and removed a stack of letters written in perfect script. They were the letters that had sustained him over the long winter months – his correspondence with Anne.

_Dearest Gill,_

Gilbert inhaled slowly, and he imagined her voice, saying it in person.

_My pen is not too scratchy this evening, and the ink is flowing perfectly for a love letter. If you were longing to hear more of the day-to-day happenings of the Avonlea contingent at Queens, you are going to be sorely disappointed._

_My lips still feel the warmth of yours – as warm as a summer's eve but as refreshing as a spring breeze. I long for June when I will see, touch, hear, smell, and taste you. I can feel the small hairs in the back of my neck rise as I write this. Tell me, Doctor Blythe, what would be a treatment for this affliction?_

Gilbert had crafted a response to this question but redacted much of it in his official correspondence.

He read the rest of the letter and opened another one.

_Dearest Gil,_

_I am scandalously in love with you._

Gilbert wondered if Anne had done some redacting in her official correspondence here as the rest of the letter pertained to the comings and goings at Queens.

He unfolded another letter.

_Dearest Gil,_

_I received your Christmas gift. I love it. Perhaps I should find a small broken slate to accompany it._

_Christmas holidays are going well, but I miss you dearly. Sometimes I even ache. I read your letters, I feel closer to you, and I imagine you sitting next to me as I read them. Do you know that if I imagine hard enough, I can almost feel your arms about me?_

Did she imagine more than that, as Gilbert often did?

_We are ringing in the new century with a bonfire at the ruins. Diana will keep me warm, but as much as I love my bosom friend, I would much rather have you under the woollen blanket with me._

Gilbert's uneasy feeling melted away with each letter. At times, he could not believe that a woman as beautiful, intelligent, and passionate could ever fall in love with a boy who had very little to give in return.

_If Gilbert had been asked to describe his ideal woman, the description would have answered point for point to Anne, even to those seven tiny freckles whose obnoxious presence still continued to vex her soul. Gilbert was as yet little more than a boy, but a boy has his dreams as have others, and in Gilbert's future, there was always a girl with big, limpid gray eyes, and a face as fine and delicate as a flower. He had made up his mind, also, that his future must be worthy of its goddess. **[1]**_

Weary from his journey, Gilbert folded his cap, fashioning it into a make-shift pillow and rested his head against the window of the train. Before he closed his eyes, he gazed eastward and whispered, "Goodnight, Queen Anne."

As soon as sleep overtook him, his goddess greeted him; Anne had become, quite literally, the woman of his dreams.

…

"Anne, you spend almost the whole afternoon at the beach, and you completed very little of your chores today," Marilla scolded as Anne tidied the supper dishes.

"Marilla, it was such a delicious day, I couldn't waste it on domestic duties. Tomorrow is a new day, full of chores and other menial duties, today was for basking in the glory of creation."

A single smile escaped from Marilla's pressed lips, although Anne was a young woman, she still had space for childhood fantasies. "Very well then, you'll help me with the house cleaning in the morning. I also have new ticking for your bed, and I will need you to transfer the feathers."

"Can we celebrate with a fancy afternoon tea in the garden? We could dress up in our finest and use the best china." Anne's eyes flickered with excitement.

"Why on earth would we do that? We are merely doing what needs to be done," Marilla recounted matter-of-factly.

"It just seems like a carrot – something we could strive towards. You know, to keep us going when the work becomes too menial."

"Anne, we'll talk about it in the morning." Marilla dried the last of the dishes and removed her apron. "Now, Anne, I'm heading to the parlour to finish darning these stockings before we lose all the light.

Anne ventured out onto the porch and stared at the western horizon. Somewhere, over there, Gilbert's gaze may have been pointed east. Anne whispered to the setting sun, Goodnight, my love. She closed her eyes and imagined a kiss.

In the last hour of daylight, Anne sauntered down to Dryad's Bubble, a spring surrounded by a stand of white birch. It was a place where she often came to dream, and tonight was no exception. She dreamed of the upcoming year at Redmond and what kindred spirits she would find there. Most of all, she dreamed about the summer. What would it hold for her? How would being an "us" with Gilbert change their friendship? She prayed that it would not – she valued his friendship. She needed him to be the same sparring partner he had been in the past. Would he back down from arguments now? Would he agree with her on every front just to win her favour? No, that wasn't in Gilbert's nature.

The evening was hemming in from the west as Anne left her perch and sauntered back to the homestead. As she walked, her eyes lifted to the of the tips of the birch trees and attempted to whisper a prayer. Words failed her, so prayed as she told Marilla on her first night at Green Gables - she felt a prayer.

[1] L. M. Montgomery, _Anne of Avonlea,_ Chapter XIX


	3. Domestic Duties and Dreams

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The plot moves closer to Anne and Gilbert's reunion.
> 
> Mrs. Rachel Lynde speaks her mind and Anne commensurates with a new friend.
> 
> Gilbert dreams of a life with Anne.
> 
> The account of Anne re-ticking her mattress was inspired by Anne of Avonlea, Chapter 20, The Way it Often Happens.
> 
> *Currently reading Looking for Anne: How Lucy Maud Montgomery Dreamed Up a Literary Classic, by Irene Gammel. It's a must-read for any devout fan of Anne and L.M. Montgomery.

“Marilla, do you ever wonder what would happen if you didn’t scrub your floor once a week?” Anne inquired as she pressed the bristled brush across the kitchen floor. “After all these years, I’m surprised that there is even wood left to clean.”

“I do not intend to find out,” responded Marilla. “I pride myself in a spotless kitchen, just as you pride yourself in your literary work.”

Anne knelt upright, “when I have my own home, I shall have hired help.”

“Well, do you suppose we should get Jerry to clean the floors?”

“Well, if we even need the kitchen mucked out, I’ll get Jerry. In the meantime,” smiled Marilla, “I have you.”

Anne enjoyed tidiness. She could not right if everything wasn’t just so on her desk, but Marilla had an entirely different outlook on cleanliness. To Marilla, it was not enough that cleanliness was merely next to godliness; it had to be adjacent.

Marilla had just finished polishing the silverware when a knock came at the door. Before either Anne or Marilla had a chance to answer it, Mrs. Rachel Lynde burst through the door.

“Marilla. Anne.” Mrs. Rachel nodded her head to the women of Green Gables before she the pin from her straw hat. “I suppose you remember that it is Elijah’s 21st Birthday tomorrow, and I intend to bake him his mother’s cake – minus the liniment, mind you.” Rachel’s eyes dashed towards Anne as she chuckled.

“Anne has the recipe written down.” Marilla nodded towards Anne.

“Yes, I’ll get it – it’s in my recipe box.”

“Are you filling that box up, dear?” Dr. Blythe will need sustenance when he comes home from a long day at the clinic.” Rachel sat at the kitchen table, “Oh, Marilla, I’ll have one lump of sugar in my tea, not two this time. I’m cutting back. Apparently, sugar isn’t good for my arthritis.”

Marilla wiped her hands in her apron, “would you like a cup of tea, Rachel.”

“You have known me all your life, when have I never wanted tea?”

Anne returned with the recipe. “You know, Mary taught Gilbert a little about cooking as well.”

“Anne, dear, I was merely teasing. I may be a spiteful old cat, but I’m also learning how to be a 20th Century Woman. I wouldn’t mind if Thomas could at least boil an egg. Do you know that that man asked me to write down the recipe for boiling an egg when I went to Charlottetown last month? I suppose it’s my own fault. I do dote over him something awful. By the way, Anne, when does Gilbert get home?” Mrs. Rachel had a way of weaving several conversations into one monologue.

“He’ll be back a week from Saturday,” Anne replied.

Rachel’s eyes darted from Anne to Marilla, “And how do you feel about that, Marilla? How do you feel about having Anne’s beau just across the field.”

Calmly Marilla countered, “I feel about as ease as I was before, Rachel.”

Both of the Green Gables women knew that Rachel was about to surmount her soapbox.

“Anne, I don’t know how you intend to maintain this courtship for four more years. Thomas and I courted for six months, followed by a six-month engagement then marriage. Then again, young people nowadays have different interpretations of keeping the purity of the marriage bed.”

Anne was at a loss for words.

Marilla interjected, “Rachel, that’s enough!”

“Well, someone at least has to mention it – it’s not like anyone in this house has experience in these matters.” Rachel turned towards Anne, “women and men, when they are in love, have … ah … urges…”

Heat began to radiate through Anne’s body.

Rachel continued, “there are some ways that we can feed these … ah… urges while still maintaining the … as I said before… the purity of the marriage bed. However, like a stray cat, once you feed these urges a little, they keep coming back… and wanting more.”

Marilla stood up and leaned across the table. “Did you come here for a cake recipe, or did you come to make Anne feel uncomfortable about her relationship with Gilbert?”  
  
Rachel sat back and laid her hands on the table, “if truth be told, I came to do both.” She turned towards Anne and gestured her to sit.

“No, thank-you,” replied Anne. I have to re-tick my … maiden bed. Anne turned on her heels and headed out to the garden.

Rachel leaned in, “Marilla, there’s going to be trouble. Gilbert was almost ready to marry that Charlottetown girl last year – and as quick as that he was all over Anne.”

Marilla breathed deeply, “I trust Anne, and I also trust Gilbert. Providence has placed them together since they were young. Both have such high aspirations that I wouldn’t think that either one would jeopardize their futures. Now, unless Anne wishes to talk about this with you, I would appreciate it if you didn’t meddle.”

Mrs. Rachel smiled, “of course, Marilla. I will not meddle – but I do warn you to keep an eye out for those two.”

…

The conversation with Rachel gave Anne enough pith and vinegar to wrestle the feathers out of her old mattress and into her new ticking. As she worked, she mumbled.  
  


“Stray cat, indeed, Rachel Lynde. You have something to say about everything.”

Anne began to paddle her mattress to even out the feathers, muttering as she went.  
  
“I hope I never get on your bad side,” rang a voice from behind her.  
  
Anne turned around, and she was a sight to behold – covered in sweat and feathers. She blew a feather and a stray hair out of her face. “Elijah! Ah, how are you?”  
  
“Better off than that mattress.” He laughed. “I was hoping that you would come over this afternoon. Delly has been asking for ‘Nan’ all morning.”

“I have a few chores to finish, but I’ll be over around 2 o’clock?”

“I’ll let her know. She’ll be happy.” Elijah handed Anne a book. “Oh, and I’m finished with this – thank you for lending it to me.”

Anne had lent Elijah _The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn_ a week before, and Elijah had devoured it.

“I had some thoughts about how Mr. Twain pictures black folk in his stories, but maybe we can discuss it at a later time. You seem a little… off… today.”

Anne pushed her hair back with her hands, “it’s just, Mrs. Rachel…”

Elijah chuckled, “Say no more.”

Anne and Elijah looked at each other and burst into laughter.

“Oh, Elijah, she has too many things to say.”

“Tell me about it. She’s bent on finding me a woman. Do you know what she said to me other day? ‘Elijah, all women want a man who is tall, dark, and handsome, and they can’t get any darker than you.’ She then went on to ask which colour of women I would prefer as if I was painting a house.”

Anne sighed, “I’m sure that she means well; she just doesn’t have the best way of going about it.”  
  
“I know, I actually appreciate it that she acknowledges that I’m black. Some people around here have problems with that. It’s like they’re afraid to remind me.”

“Perhaps you could show Mr. Twain a thing or two about how black folk should be represented in literature,” Anne remarked.

Elijah grinned, “I’ll get on that – I’ve had quite an adventure.”

…

Gilbert arrived in Cape Tormentine by late-morning and awaited the afternoon ferry. As he sat at the dock, he could see the red sandstone cliffs not too far in the distance. How could he be sol close yet so far away? He was weary from his travels but was too excited to sleep for any extent of time.  
  
He boarded the ferry and found a seat on deck. Gilbert missed the smell of sea and wanted to ingest as much of it as he could. Dr. Oake was right. He needed the salt air.  
  
The ruddy island came closer and closer into view. It really was quite majestic. Gilbert thought that he could adjust to city life but quickly realized that he was an island boy through and through. Perhaps being a country doctor wasn’t all bad.

Gilbert let himself imagine life as a country doctor. He would have a modest house with a beautiful garden. Anne would often muse at how much she enjoys babbling brooks, so Gilbert made sure to add that feature to his bucket list. He also imagined a small library with floor to ceiling bookshelves and a small desk in front of a window where Anne could write.

His thoughts then wandered to the vision of Anne, his bride, writing, enveloped by the light from the window. Perhaps she could be a wife and an author. Gilbert thought that Anne had too much potential to stop pursuing her dream of being a writer when she became his wife – his partner. The new century was full of possibilities.

This was when Gilbert would often consciously stop his fantasies – how could he be sure that Anne would want to spend her life with him? Her weekly letters would provide strong evidence against this doubt, but it all seemed too good to be true.

The horn from the ferry sounded to alert passengers that it was nearing its destination.

One more train ride remained between him and his love.


	4. Reunited

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anne and Gilbert finally reunite, but not without a misunderstanding along the way.

"Nan Nan Nan" screamed Delphine as she wobbled out of the Blythe-LaCroix farmhouse. Now, only a few months off two, Delly had grown close to Anne, who had visited a great deal during her school holidays.

"Princess Delphine," Anne curtseyed, "you have requested by presence."

Delly raised her chubby arms towards Anne, "Nan! Nan! Up! Up!"

Anne scooped up the girl in her arms and spun her around. "What do you say we take a visit to Hester Grey's garden and make flower crowns?"

"Anne," Sebastien called, "I hope you don't mind watching Delly for a while, Elijah has to tend to the orchard for a few hours and Mamma Hazel and I have to run into town to pick up an important package."

"I don't mind a smidgen," sang Anne as she placed Delphine back on terra firma. "Would you like me to prepare supper?"

Sebastien smiled cheekily at his mother, "that will be lovely, just be sure to make enough, I'll be hungry enough to eat for two."  
  
Hazel Lacroix appeared in the doorway, adjusting her hat. "Anne, my dear, I've already peeled the carrot and potato, I was about to shuck the peas when Sebastien here got word of an important delivery at Bright River. He insisted that I come with him to fetch it. We're going to stop into Carmody to pick up some new boots for Delly girl; she's growing like a weed these past few weeks."

"Well, I hope you enjoy your ride. It is a scrumptious day. Delly and I will only be at Hester Grey's garden for about an hour or so." Anne was only too happy to help her adopted extended family.

"Muriel and I caught some lovely trout this morning, I've already cleaned it, and it just needs to be cooked." Sebastien's eyes lit up as the name Muriel leaped off his tongue.

Hazel interjected, "Sebastien, my son, when are you going to return from one of your fishing expeditions with what you really want to catch? You have been catching enough fish with that woman to fill an ocean, not to mention the wild strawberries, blueberries, raspberries… good Lord son, I want another grandbaby, not another trout!"  
  
Sebastien glared at his mother, "Mamma, stop! Muriel is my friend."  
  
"Yeah, a friend that makes you act like a moke," fired back Hazel.

"Mamma, I'm going to leave you home if you don't stop teasing me."

"I'm only looking out for my son's best interests. It's not hard to see that you are in love with that woman, and she you. One of you has to have the sense to make it known to the other." Hazel sighed, "but if you tell me not to tease you, I will stop."

Sebastien stood aback, "Mamma, this is the first time you've backed down from a fight."

"I didn't say I was backing down. This is merely a cease-fire because I want to go to the shop. I'll knock some sense into you by-and-by." Hazel smoothed out her skirts with her hand and headed towards the buggy. "Now, son, help me up."

Soon Sebastien and Hazel were off, and Anne secured Delly into her pram and set off to Hester Grey's garden.

"Lallo pease!" Delphine filled her chubby hands with all the yellow flowers she could hold.

Anne weaved them into a small crown and placed it on Delly's head. "A crown fit for a queen. Yellow is so becoming on you, Delphine."

"Nan crown!" Delly ran through the garden picking flowers for Anne. Soon both queens were crowned, and Anne and Delphine began travelling back to the Blythe-Larcorix homestead.

On their way, they were intercepted by Elijah, who had finished his work in the orchard.

"I can take over now," offered Elijah. "You have been such a help."

Anne handed him the pram. "Are you sure it isn't a bother."

Elijah smiled, "It's okay; I can take things from here."

Anne kissed Delly's soft curls, "farewell, sweet Delphine." She turned to Elijah, "Hazel has given me instructions on how to prepare for supper."

"Don't worry, Anne, I have it under control."

The two friends said their farewells, and Anne turned back to return to Green Gables.

…

"Blythe! Is that you?" Sebastien remarked, "it has been so long, I forgot what you looked like, brother!"

Gilbert was weary from his travels, but not too weary of embracing his best friend. "Bash, it is me! The prodigal has returned, AGAIN."

Pulling away from the embrace, Sebastien straightened up Gilbert's collar. "Now, boy, you have to look good. Someone is home preparing supper for us."

Gilbert's face turned serious, "You didn't tell Anne, did you? This is supposed to be a surprise."

"Of course I didn't tell her, I told her that I was picking up a parcel." Sebastien grabbed Gilbert's satchel. "Now, where are the rest of your cases?"

…

During the ride home, Gilbert's senses were bombarded with the smell of wildflowers and salt sea. "Oh, how I've missed this red earth!"

"Tell me about other red things that you missed," joked Sebastien.

"Bash, I am so overwhelmed by emotion. I have no idea what to do when I see her again."

Bash gave Gilbert a sideways glance and a nudge, "you'll think of something."

"We've revealed so much about ourselves through correspondence. I just don't know what to do once she's… well… there… in the flesh." Gilbert gestured as if Anne was right in front of him.

"Listen to your heart, Blythe. You know that part you ignored for so long."

Gilbert glared, "don't start on that."

Sebastien slapped the reins, "I don't mean ill by that, Blythe, I just mean that your heart will know what to do."

"What did your heart tell you when you saw Mary after a long time?" Gilbert was curious.

"Well my heart told me 'you better hurry up and marry that woman.'"

Gilbert Gazed out over the Gulf. "I don't think that helps me much now."

Hazel, who was uncharacteristically quiet, interposed from the back seat, "Gilbert, my boy, that girl is a pearl of great price. Give yourself time to get used to her presence. You will both know what to do. Heaven knows it can't be as awkward as Sebastien is with that Miss Stacy."

Now it was Gilbert's time to return a sideways glance. "Miss Stacy, eh? Do tell."

Sebastien sighed and scowled back at his mother. "There's nothing to tell. We are fishing buddies."

"Fishing buddies, my Caribbean a…"

"Mama! That is enough!"

Hazel tilted her head back and guffawed. "Oh, my boy, it is too easy to get your goat."

Gilbert elbowed his best friend, "perhaps a little scotch and a chat later this evening?"

"Scotch sounds like a good idea."

The buggy crested the slope, and Gilbert could see his old homestead in the distance. "I'm finally home."

…

Before the buggy could come to a full stop, Gilbert leapt out and hurried toward the kitchen door. After bursting past the hearth, he was startled to see Elijah tending to supper with Delly in his arms.

"Ah, Elijah, hello." Gilbert tried to hide his disappointment. 

Elijah placed Delphine in her high chair and extended his hand. "Welcome home, friend."

"It's good to be home," Gilbert perplexingly peered around Elijah.

Noticing Gilbert's behaviour, Elijah inquired, "are you expecting someone else?"

"Wasn't Anne supposed to be here?"

Elijah pursed his lips, "Oh, I told her to go home after I finished work."

Sebastien and Hazel came in equally as perplexed.

"Elijah," questioned Hazel, "where is Anne?"

Glancing at all those who had gathered in the room, Elijah explained. "I met Anne and Delly coming back from the garden. I felt bad for imposing on her, so I took Delly and told her to go home. She gave me your instructions for supper. The fish is almost friend, and the potato and carrot have already been boiled."

Sebastien picked up his daughter and kissed her forehead. "We received the telegram from Gilbert after you had left for the orchard. Don't feel bad; Gilbert will just have to wait a little longer to see his love. Elijah, let's bring in his cases while he washes up."

…

Hazel promptly served supper, and Gilbert had his fill. He had barely eaten since he left Toronto, save for a small sandwich and some toast from the dining car.

"Gilbert, you've been quiet," remarked Hazel, "am I mistaken in thinking that your thoughts are elsewhere?"

Gilbert rose from the table, "I apologize, but I must run and see Anne. I've waited long enough."

[ _And, dear readers, haven't we too?]_

Gilbert placed his dishes at the sink, grabbed his cap, and darted out the door.

Sebastien turned to his mother and smirked, "Now mamma, were about to witness a man break a world record in distance running."

…

Anne sat at Drayad's bubble daydreaming about the next part of her short story. She realized that she did not know much about the Marco Polo, so some research was in the works. The ensuing love story, however, did not need to be historically accurate. She had given a draft for Diana to critique and was anxiously awaiting her response. Anne always wondered if her stories were good enough. They were indeed good enough in her imagination. Unfortunately, she felt that some of the intrigue and romance was lost when she tried to write it down.

"I can't think about it anymore," Anne whispered as she peered at her reflection in the small pool. "One, two, three, four, five, six, seven…" Still, seven freckles lined her otherwise perfect nose. Anne pushed herself back from the pond and leaned up against a milky-white birch tree. Letting out an enormous sigh, she closed her eyes.

" _You look like a real dryad under that birch tree **[1]**_ ," a familiar voice uttered.

Anne opened her eyes to see Gilbert standing across the small pond from her.

She quickly arose, albeit nervous, and smoothed out her skirts. "Gilbert, you're home. You're here."

"I just returned to Avonlea about an hour ago, Marilla told me that I would find you here."

Anne glided toward Gilbert until they were only a few inches apart. She grazed her hand along the side of his jaw and kissed him softly on the lips. "I've missed you."

Gilbert had no words; he pulled Anne into a close embrace and kissed her. His heart fell into a dizzying tailspin, but he felt safer than ever. He pulled back to stare into Anne's blue-grey eyes. "You have no idea how badly I wanted to do that every day this year."

Anne laughed, "I think I do, Gil because I've been feeling the same thing."

"Oh, Anne," cried Gilbert, "this is going to be a summer to remember."

…

The final hours of daylight were spent meandering down Lover's Lane – reminiscing and dreaming.

When twilight fell, Gilbert walked Anne back to Green Gables, clasped her hands in his, and kissed them.

"Goodnight, Anne Girl, parting is such sweet sorrow."

Anne gazed up at Gilbert as she kissed him goodnight. "Until tomorrow, my love."

[1] L. M. Montgomery, _Anne of Avonlea,_ Chapter XIX

Currently Reading _The Doctor's Sweetheart **,**_ a collection of short stories by L M Montgomery.


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